


Thursdays without you

by leirabeans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Destiel is canon, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leirabeans/pseuds/leirabeans
Summary: “Is that a pair of wings?” Castiel murmured, pinkish lips tracing the new tattoo on Dean's bare chest.Dean hesitated, sighing before he answered, “Yes, it is. A pair of angel wings.”A short pause. They both knew that Dean was not a religious man.“I love it.” Castiel whispered with a smile, mirth in his heavenly blue eyes as he closed the gap between them.I love you, Dean wanted to shout.- or Dean, a mechanical engineering major, falls in love with the English major trench coat-donning blue eyed Castiel who takes his organic chemistry class for fun. But Dean isn't good with words and a monster named insecurity lives inside him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 39





	Thursdays without you

**Author's Note:**

> in celebration of destiel being canon.

Thursday nights were Dean’s worst enemy and closest friend. Thursdays meant that he found himself walking the familiar road to Amara’s office, with earphones on and loud music numbing him. Thursdays meant missing Castiel.

It was three years ago, on the first day of his second year of college. Dean’s head was pounding from a terrible hungover as he sluggishly walked into the Department of Engineering. Why did he think it was a good idea to drink three bottles of vodka with Nick last night? How did Benny convince him to mix tequila and rum then devour it like water? More importantly, what was Dean thinking when he signed up for an Organic Chemistry class at 8 AM on a Monday?

Dean forced himself to trudge on, arriving in class 10 minutes late. As he walked in, the old bald professor with a toad face studied him, eyes moving up and down. Dean could hear Professor Zachariah’s thoughts, could feel the impression and judgement forming, as the elder’s stare hardened at his figure. Dean stood a bit taller, straightening his spine. He was wearing a plain black shirt underneath a red-toned plaid shirt with his distressed, ripped jeans, and brown Timbs. Both of his arms were adorned with intricate tattoos, different shades of black and red painting every inch of his skin. He had a notch in his right eyebrow and his left ear was pierced with a black stud. Dean looked like he was trouble… and he was. Trouble was his middle name.

The professor’s face twitched before making a show of ignoring Dean. Ironic how that was the last thing he actually did. If anything, he made sure that everyone noticed Dean’s arrival and his class was sending him judgmental looks _, nothing new there_. Dean squinted, trying to look for an empty seat at the back of the classroom. He spots one in 13th row, beside a girl with a pointed nose, he faintly remembered as Becky. Dean made his way to the seat as his professor droned on. Unfortunately, Dean made the mistake of making eye contact with the girl beside the empty seat. As soon as the girl realized Dean’s intention, she hurriedly proceeded to throw her bag onto the seat.

Dean stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time that this happened before and it didn’t really matter to him anymore. It did piss him off because now, he had no choice but to sit in the front. There was an empty seat on the front row beside a dark-haired guy. Dean considered sitting in the front row, showering in his professor’s saliva, or – He realized he didn’t really have a choice and that the professor had stopped lecturing and was glaring at Dean. With a sigh, Dean proceeded to the front row and sat beside the unfamiliar guy.

Dean sat with a thud, taking out his iPad to play games while pretending to take notes from the lecture. His head was still throbbing and he felt nauseated, he could even smell himself reeking of alcohol. He just needed to get through two hours of this stupid introductory lecture and he could go home, crash, and regret his decisions from last night. His next class was at 2 PM, that was bearable at least.

One hour into the lecture and five levels up in piano tiles, Dean could fool himself into thinking that he can survive through 8 AM, morning orgo lectures. His professor, obviously, had other ideas.

“You, Mr. Plaid shirt.” Toad face was saying. Dean fought the urge to ignore the man, and instead looked up from his iPad and met the bald man’s eyes.

“How do I make an aldehyde from a secondary alcohol?”

Dean frowned; he was a Mechanical Engineering major, not a chemical major. He suppressed a biting remark back but he knew how professors played this game, so instead Dean shrugged, “Not sure.” He muttered.

Dean’s penchant for ripped jeans, body ink, and piercing had professors making him a target in class. Dean was neither smart or dumb. But he was a good crammer and always survived through hell week with more than decent grades. His professor was playing that game again, a game he was very familiar with. He wanted to make a statement in his class, about paying attention and coming on time to lectures. Fortunately for him, Dean was the best target. He dressed like a delinquent and acted like one.

Dean could also play this game but his head was still hurting, it was still 9 AM in the morning, and he still hadn’t had his dose of caffeine. So, Dean pushed down his acidic words and just stared at the professor, mustering his most innocent look.

“Why don’t you try to answer?” Zachariah pressed, a stinky smug smile slowly spreading on his ugly face.

Dean just stared back, biting his tongue and forcing himself to stay silent.

“You came in late, played games on your phone the entire time, and you don’t know how to make aldehydes from a secondary alcohol?” The professor continued, each word dripping with sarcasm.

Dean’s limited self-control disappeared and his caustic words threatened to spill from his mouth when the person beside him spoke up. “You don’t make it from a secondary alcohol. You make it from a primary alcohol, using PCC for the oxidation process. Secondary alcohols yield ketones, not aldehydes.” His deep voice boomed through the room, tone in a matter-of-fact.

Dean’s eyes flew to the person beside him. He had caramel skin, chiseled features, and electric blue eyes. He had a strong jaw with a mild shadow. He wore a loose hideous trench coat that made him stood out like a sore thumb. Dean wasn’t sure whether he was enthralled or weirded out by the great juxtaposition that the man was. There was something captivating about him yet he also felt out of place. Dean couldn’t figure out what it was.

The professor huffed, moving on to continue his boring lecture and perhaps bully someone else.

Dean, on the other hand, met the guy’s blue eyes.

“Hello, Dean.” he said in that addicting deep voice as he broke into a sweet smile that will forever haunt Dean’s every waking moment and every dream.

That was how he met Castiel. If Dean could turn back time, he probably would have just slept in the morning of that class instead. He probably would have sat beside Becky instead. He probably would have dropped that class. He would have done anything simply to have not met Castiel at all.

**Present.**

“How’s the car that you’re working on?” Garth was asking, his wide eyes genuine curious.

Dean shrugged as he chugged his second bottle of beer, “Almost done. Should be ready to leave the garage by next week.”

“Is that why you haven’t been sleeping properly?” Anna inquired, reaching out for the bottle of beer naturally and slyly.

Charlie squatted Anna’s hand away and turned to Dean, “Is that true?”

Dean bit his tongue, silently plotting how to kill Anna tonight. Now that Anna has mentioned it, Charlie and Garth would make sure to follow up on him. To care for him, like they have always done in the past. He’d be lucky if Garth didn’t message Sam to tell him too.

“’M fine.” He muttered, resisting the urge to shuffle on his seat or to scratch his neck. Charlie would read his nervous tics and then, she would latch on to it. Dean needed a break, so instead he continued, “You didn’t come home this weekend, where were you?” He looked at Anna, eyes hard.

Anna ran her fingers through her fire red hair, glaring at Dean. Dean wasn’t sure if she was in another bar, gambling and drinking again. Dean honestly didn’t care. He just needed to take the heat off him.

“Wait, what? Where were you?” Charlie and Garth were exclaiming. Worry washing over them as they addressed Anna, momentarily ignoring Dean.

Dean nodded to himself, satisfied. Anna will shout at him later, but he would rather pick that any day than Charlie’s probing eyes. He returned to his pumpkie then, heaving a sigh.

“Don’t you think pumpkin are the best thing mankind has ever discovered?” Castiel grinned, excitement glittering his bright blue eyes.

Dean stifled a smile and instead, he grumbled, “You say that about puppies and babies too.”

Castiel’s eyes squinted, tilting his head as he exclaimed, “Because they are, Dean. They taste _delicious_ and- I mean pumpkin, not the babies and puppies!” He was gushing, ignoring the pumpkin spice latte and pumpkie pie they have ordered.

Dean sipped his chocolate milkshake, watching Castiel with amusement. It was their first date and all his worries from the night before had disappeared. Why did he even worry? We were talking about Castiel here. Castiel, who would randomly ask strangers if they can pet their dogs. Castiel, who made faces to make babies smile. Castiel, who didn’t run away from Dean when he had taken a step towards him.

Dean should have probably thanked his professor. After failing miserably on his orgo midterm (Benny was throwing his annual party the night before and Dean may have vomited on his exam paper the very next morning), his professor had forced (the fucker used the word _encouraged_ though) him to ask for tutorial from another student. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for Dean, Castiel was the only one who didn’t cringe or made up excuses when he had asked for help. Instead, Castiel flashed him a genuine smile, eyes crinkling as he murmured in his gravelly voice, “Of course, Dean.”

From then on, Dean found himself with Castiel in random coffee shops, nose buried in orgo worksheets. Dean found three things that were particularly peculiar about Castiel. Firstly, he insisted on visiting local coffee shop so Dean can relish on their extended pastries and cakes. Secondly, Castiel had a penchant for a loose-fitting trench coat, no matter what the weather was. Thirdly, he was an English literature major who magnificently excelled in orgo. Dean wasn’t sure whether it was Castiel’s random appreciation of the most random things or Castiel’s soft eyes without any trace of judgement, that made him look forward to their tutoring sessions. The next thing Dean knew, he got a 90% in his next orgo midterm, Castiel was congratulating him and bidding farewell as Dean no longer needed his help, and Dean was asking him out on a date with a shaky voice.

That brings them to this coffee shop that Castiel had chosen. No books, laptops, or worksheets like their usual tutoring sessions. Instead, Castiel was leaning on his hand placed on the table. Instead, Castiel was smiling at Dean. Dean thought about his professional camera at home. He thought of taking a photo of that moment: of dusk approaching behind Castiel, of the sun slowly descending and shadowing Castiel’s caramel skin, of Castiel beaming at him with his sky blue eyes filled of warmth.

Instead, Dean thought it would be lame to capture that moment in film. Instead, Dean didn’t say anything to Castiel and just listened as the latter chatted animatedly. To this day, Dean could see the sun’s halo around Castiel, could hear Castiel’s laughter every time the sun sets.

**Present.**

His dinner with Anna, Charlie, and Garth ended around 10 PM. He and Anna bid them goodbye as the two walked back to their apartment complex. They walked in silence, mind reeling and heavy loneliness surrounding them both. This was the part that Dean hated the most. When he came back to his apartment after spending time with his friends who knew Castiel. When he watched as Anna grabbed another bottle of liquor and disappeared into his room, turning a blind eye on Anna’s endless drinking. When he laid on his bed at night with a throbbing pain in his chest, before crying himself to sleep. Only to find Castiel waiting for him there, reliving every moment they had spent together.

“Just spit it out, Dean.” Castiel was smiling that grin again. His weight was on Dean’s chest. Dean could feel every single cell in his body. His body was hyper alert on the fact that Castiel was on his bed, fully dressed and hand resting on Dean’s chest.

“You should go home.” Dean muttered, not daring to meet Castiel’s face.

“Why are you kicking me out?” Castiel whined, wiggling in his position. If a human’s body could combust, Dean was sure his would have at that exact moment.

He sighed, “I’m not kicking you out, I just-” He made the mistake of gazing into Castiel’s ocean eyes, Castiel’s dry pinkish and luscious lips, and Castiel’s dark mane that he had been growing.

His lips crashed onto Castiel’s.

It has been more than a week since Dean had the courage to blurt out the word boyfriend in front of Castiel. The other had smiled at him fondly then. Dean could remember the trepidation, the self-doubt, and the insecurity crawling inside him. _Why would Castiel want to date someone like you?_ A voice whispered in the back of his mind. A voice that had been his companion for the past years, constantly taunting him. The voice that branded him a monster.

But Castiel couldn’t hear that voice. Castiel didn’t know the monster that Dean was. Thus, Castiel’s lips curled into the most beautiful smile Dean had seen as he mused, “About time you ask me, Dean Winchester.”

Castiel moaned into Dean’s lips, a deep whimper that sent all his blood rushing to his dick. Castiel was straddling Dean, hands caressing his bare chest, lips crashing his. Dean relished in Castiel’s vanilla scent, running his hands along Castiel’s body hungrily. His hands settled on Castiel’s plump ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze. At that, Castiel whimpered hopelessly. His luscious lips parted and Dean took the chance frantically, pressing his tongue into Castiel’s warm mouth. He traced every corner, every curve of Castiel’s mouth, etching it to his memory.

“Dean…” Castiel whispered, pushing away from Dean as his eyes impatiently searched Dean’s. He rested his palms on Dean’s chest, “I want _more_ , Dean.” His heavenly blue eyes were laced with carnal desire.

“Are you sure?” Dean breathed, fingers playing with the hem of Castiel’s shirt. The other nodded solemnly, tugging at the collar of Dean’s shirt.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me and I will stop. We don’t have to do any of this.” Dean was saying, eyes blazing with primitive need.

Castiel’s beautiful face broke into a breath-taking smile, “So sweet. God, just fuck me already.”

Dean gulped, dick twitching at Castiel’s desperate request. “Gladly.” He answered, and so he did, wholeheartedly.

*

“Tell me about your tattoos.” Castiel hummed, fingers tracing Dean’s painted arm. Castiel was on his tummy, bare and broad shoulder exposed for Dean to lust on. His feathery dark hair fell on one side; displaying the soft honey skin of his neck, which Dean had marked with purple kisses.

“Which one?” Dean whispered, admiring his boyfriend’s blinding beauty and enjoying his emanating warmth.

Castiel pursed his swollen lips then, squinting adorably as he examined Dean’s arm. Dean couldn’t hide the smile that blossomed on his lips as he gazed at the gorgeous boy in front of him.

“This one.” The said boy whispered rasply, eyes glittering with childlike curiosity. Dean hesitantly tore his gaze away from Castiel, sparing a glance on the tattoo that Castiel was touching.

_Meraki._

“Meraki?” Castiel had continued, tilting his head ever so slightly as he gazed inquisitively to Dean.

“It’s a greek word. It means something along the lines of the creativity and the love that you devote into something. It’s like passion but stronger, with absolute commitment and undivided attention. It’s like the essence, a part of yourself, that you put into your work.” Dean explained, reaching out to trace circles on Castiel’s back.

He seemed to like that, surrendering to Dean’s touch as he snuggled closer to Dean. Dean, on the other hand, savored Castiel’s warmth and vanilla scent.

“It suits you.” He slightly moaned, voice deep and soft. His wide eyes then fluttered to the new tattoo, the only one, that was on Dean’s chest. “And this one?” He asked, resting his nose and cheek on Dean’s left pecs.

“It’s a new tattoo.” Dean replied, heat pooling in his ears and a blush creeping to his cheeks.

“Is that a pair of wings?” Castiel murmured, lips touching and burning Dean’s bare chest with its softness.

Dean hesitated, sighing before he answered, “Yes, it is. A pair of angel wings.”

There was a short pause.

They both knew that Dean was not a religious man.

During one of their earlier dates, Dean had remarked that Castiel was a very strange name. Castiel had flashed him a tolerant smile before indulging him, “My mother named after the angel of Thursday.”

“I love it.” Castiel whispered with a smile, mirth in his eyes as he closed the gap between them. His lips gently brushing against Dean’s.

 _I love you_ , Dean wanted to shout.

Dean’s alarm blared beside him, jolting him awake. He groaned and turned it off. He was drenched in sweat, eyes wet with saline, and a throbbing pain in his pants. With a sigh, he moved robotically to head for a cold shower.

His days mingled into each other, mundane as always. It always began with Dean waking up with tears dried on his face, banging at Anna’s door to make sure that she was still around, heading to the garage to work his body to pure exhaustion, only to find himself crying himself to sleep.

 _It had been four hundred and fifteen days since Castiel had left him._ Yet everyday still hurt. Every day was still a nightmare without Castiel smiling at him, holding his hand, _loving_ him.

**Present.**

“How was your day, Dean?” Amara smiled amiably. They were supposed to meet on Thursday two weeks ago for their bi-weekly therapy session but she had to reschedule it to Friday this session.

Friday nights were the worst. When he had nothing to work on the next day, no routine or lectures to distract him from. When he woke up the next morning and all he could feel was the emptiness on Castiel’s side of his bed. His boyfriend. His best friend.

“Nothing much.” Dean shrugged. He was never good at expressing himself. He wasn’t much of a talker; he had never been. Perhaps that’s one of the million reasons why he lost Castiel.

Amara nodded, absorbing that. They were sitting across each other, in her grey-toned office. “How’s your project going?”

“Almost done with it.” Another silence.

“Have you attended your photography classes yet?” She pressed.

Dean flinched. Photography classes? Dean hadn’t been to his photography classes in a long time. He had not been to the university campus in more than a year. Not after what happened. Not when the every room, every plant, every wall reminded him of Castiel. Besides, how could he? _How could he take photos again when his muse was gone?_

Amara sighed, “He would’ve liked you to continue with it, Dean. You know that.” She added softly.

Dean bit his lip, fighting the tears that sprung up to his eyes.

“You take such lovely pictures. Is this how you see me?” Castiel was smiling again, hands flipping through the photographs that Dean had taken. They were mostly pictures of Castiel during their dates. Castiel on a field of flowers. Castiel trying out different kinds of pies. Castiel playing with puppies.

They were at Castiel and Anna’s place, sitting side by side on their couch. His arm was draped over Castiel’s shoulder while he faced the TV. Castiel was snuggled to his side, his warmth emanating and making Dean feel at home.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked lazily, eyes glued to the screen.

Yet Dean knew exactly what Castiel meant. Dean saw Castiel as brightly as a blind man saw the sun for the first time. Castiel always found the beauty in everything. As for Dean, Castiel was the beauty of everything. With his golden skin and twinkling eyes, he made every scene of Dean’s life worth living for. Yet Dean didn’t have the guts to tell Castiel this. He had always been a doer, not a talker.

Castiel frowned then, “I mean, I’m sure I don’t look like this in real life. Just how much did you Photoshop these photos?”

Dean chuckled softly. He didn’t have to Photoshop any picture of Castiel, for every picture shone by itself. Castiel was like the sun, always bringing warmth with him. Dean murmured, “Too much Photoshop. I had to stay up for a few nights.”

Castiel threw him a look and a playful punch at his shoulder.

Dean had always been a doer. Thus, he showed how much he adored, how much he cherished, how much he worshipped Castiel with his hands and mouth that night and every night after.

“Dean, you don’t have to. I’m just saying that-”

“I know, Amara. I know and you don’t have to say it.” Dean snapped, words coming out more scathingly than he had intended.

Something familiar simmered inside him.

 _Anger._ His monster.

Amara didn’t flinch though, immune to Dean’s outbursts. Instead, she dropped the subject and proceeded to ask Dean about Anna. “Is Anna still drinking as much? Still partying as much?”

Dean’s jaw tightened.“I don’t know. I don’t fucking care. It’s none of my business.”

“But Dean, it is. You’re her friend. You care about her too.”

Did he? Did Dean even _care_ about anything anymore? Sure, he was going to Bobby’s garage to work. Yet that was because they were the distractions that worked best.

Sure, He was meeting his friends, his support group. That was because their familiarity comforted him. They might have treated him like he was made up of glass. Yet with them, Dean could remain silent. He could remain lost in thoughts and they allowed him that personal space.

But, that didn’t mean that he cared. He wasn’t certain if he was even capable of caring anymore.

“She is my friend, but-” Dean cut himself off. Unable to say it out loud: _Anna was Castiel’s sister and everytime I look at Anna, I see him, I hear him._

If Dean could pick a moment where it all started to go downhill, it would have been that night. He had been dating Castiel for the past nine months, spending most of his time in the other’s apartment. He was either lost in books or in Castiel’s gentle touch. He hadn’t been partying much and his friends, particularly Benny and Nick, had been giving him a hard time.

Unlike Anna (who knew about Dean and Castiel on their first fucking date), his friends didn’t know that he was dating Castiel. Dean wasn’t exactly keeping it a secret but he hadn’t brought it up to anyone ever since. Not only did he think that it was no one else’s business except theirs but also, he didn’t know how his friends would react should they discover that Dean liked Castiel, liked a _guy_. His friends could look past his tattoos, could tolerate his grumpy moods, and could even keep up with short temper. Yet Dean wasn’t sure how they would react if they found out that Dean was dating a guy: that _Dean was gay._

He didn’t have time to figure it out, however. He didn’t even have the chance. While he was sucking on the sensitive skin between Castiel’s neck and shoulder, his phone rang loudly. Dean ignored it, proceeding to mark Castiel. _Mine, mine, mine._ The latter, however, squirmed on his seat at Dean’s lap. He pulled away, voice breathless as he cooed, “Your phone is ringing.”

“Ignore it.” Dean mumbled desperately, reaching out to feel Castiel’s skin on his lips again, to suffocate in Castiel’s vanilla scent again. Castiel, on the other hand, had other plans.

He chuckled, pushing the younger away as he mumbled, “It’s been ringing for a while now. Just answer it and get it over with?”

With a heavy sigh, Dean reached out to his phone. _Nick_ , the dial read. He pressed the phone to his ear with his left hand, while his right hand was drawing circles on Castiel’s bare thigh.

**“Fuck’s sake, Dean. Answer your fucking goddamn phone.” Nick was shouting, loud music booming behind him.**

**Dean flinched slightly from the noise, “What do you want?” He growled, eyes fixed on Castiel’s collar bones that was exposed by the big shirt (Dean’s) that Castiel was wearing. The _only_ thing he was wearing, in fact.**

“It’s been three months since you fucking partied with us. Get your ass over here, right now.” Nick barked, voice deadly serious.

Dean’s hand traveled up Castiel’s thighs and the other’s baby blues twinkled with promising mischief in response. Castiel bit his lip and all Dean wanted to do was devour Castiel whole.

“I’m busy.” Dean muttered, his voice low with danger and eyes watching Castiel with primal desire.

“Get your ass here or I’m burning your Dr. Sexy TV Guide collection. And no, I am not fucking kidding and you fucking know it.”

Dean’s hand stopped in its tracks, “You wouldn’t dare.” He hissed.

“Don’t test me, Dean. It’s been too long and you fucking know it.” Nick’s words were dripping with malice. Dean knew then that Nick probably had his stack of magazines in one hand and a lighter in the other.

“Fuck you, fine.” He bit out, hanging up.

Castiel gazed at Dean, blue eyes wide with curiosity. “Nick needs my ass in the apartment.” He explained, already lifting Castiel off his lap as if he weighted nothing, and reaching out to grab his jeans.

“Do you really have to go?” Castiel purred, looking undeniably irresistible with his wide shoulders, slim hips, and hair falling softly around his face.

Dean’s dick twitched. He kissed Castiel’s forehead before grumbling a rough yes. Then, he was out of the door. He really wanted to fuck Castiel throughout the night, when his boyfriend was wearing nothing but his own shirt. However, he also needed to save his limited collection Dr. Sexy magazine collection.

It was around 4 AM in the morning when most of the party had died down. Dean found himself smoking weed with Benny and Nick in their apartment. Nick was talking about a hot girl with big tits in his finance class, “Her eyes were real big too. I’d totally fuck her in a heartbeat.”

Benny laughed at that, “Is that the girl with a blue miniskirt?”

Nick was nodding eagerly. “Speaking of blues,” he turned to Dean, “You still hanging out with that guy who wears that ugly ass trench coat?”

Dean raised a brow, his fogged mind slowly processing Nick’s words. Trench coat? He only knew one who would wear one no matter what the season was, _his_ Castiel. Dean shrugged in response.

“Oh yeah, trench boy dude! He’s even growing his hair out. You wouldn’t believe what I heard the other day!” Benny was laughing boisterously, amusement swimming in his eyes as he continued, “I heard this chick say that Dean was dating that homo-shit.”

Dean’s heart stopped.

“Like seriously? Dean isn’t gay! I’d beat him up in a fucking heartbeat if he were.” Nick was guffawing and Benny joined in.

Dean’s hand stopped mid-air, rolled joint slowly burning in between his fingers. His drug-clouded mind told him that he would regret what he was about to say next. But Dean was a coward; he had always been.

So instead, he forced himself to smile, “Me dating Castiel? That ought to be the biggest joke I’ve ever heard in my entire fucking life.”

That was the first mistake Dean had made.

**Present.**

Anna was drunk again. Dean was in the living room, nose buried in his master degree’s application when he heard the front door being unlocked. He looked up, expecting to see a staggering Anna walk in with flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes. This time, however, she was sloppily kissing a girl as they scrambled to Anna’s bedroom.

It wasn’t the first time that Anna brought someone home to help her ease the pain. Dean had turned a blind eye then too. After all, everyone had different coping mechanisms. Yet somehow, his last conversation with Amara echoed in his mind. Anna was, after all, Dean’s friend. He was also Castiel’s sister. Hence, Dean stood up before the two can enter Anna’s bedroom. He grabbed Anna’s hand strongly. The pair immediately stopped and it took a few seconds before Anna’s clouded eyes found Dean’s.

“What?” the red-haired lady with hollow cheeks and eyes asked, voice raspy from alcohol and lust.

Dean ignored Anna and looked at the girl instead, “I’ll get you a cab.” He muttered, untangling the two. The girl looked surprised, turning to Anna with questioning eyes.

Anna, on the other hand, was searching Dean’s face. “What the fuck, Winchester?” she hissed poisonously. Dean almost flinched. Anna was rainbows and hot chocolate reincarnate. She wasn’t anger and scathing words. Not since-

Dean tugged at Anna harder, addressing the girl as he continued, “My friend had too much to drink for tonight. I’ll walk you out.”

The girl glared at Dean and waited for Anna to say something. When Anna just continued to stare at Dean with green eyes slowly concentrating, the girl let out an offended snarl before walking out.

“What was that about?” Anna hissed, eyes hard and jaws locked.

Dean met his glare then, “You’ll regret it in the morning. You’re so drunk that you ended up walking into my apartment instead of yours.”

“Oh yeah?” Anna mocked, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she continued, “And who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

Dean scratched his neck. He suddenly felt really tired, as if the exhaustion from the past few days was catching up to him. “Anna, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just looking out for you.”

“Don’t.” Anna’s voice was deadly calm, eyes arctic. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to look out for me.”

“Go back to your apartment. I’ll grab you a glass of water.” Dean was saying, proceeding to the kitchen.

There was a moment of silence before Anna spoke again, “Why now Winchester? I’ve been bringing girls and guys before. Why’d you suddenly decided to say something now, huh?” Her voice was raw. It had been a long time since Dean had heard that vulnerability in Anna’s voice.

Dean paused. Unable to face Anna, he whispered, “ _He_ wouldn’t have want to see you like this.”

There was a deafening silence.

Anna broke into a hollow laughter, “Don’t you fucking dare talk about him. Don’t you fucking dare make it seem like I’m a slut. Last time I checked, _you_ did that to Castiel. Of all the people! I’m not a slut. I don’t just sleep with anyone who can had two legs, _you did_.”

A door behind him slammed close.

Dean’s grip on the glass tightened so hard that the glass broke within his touch, shards of glass sinking into his skin. Water dripped from his hand. The dam behind his eyes broke.

If Dean could beg Castiel for forgiveness, his apology would have probably started here. Spring break of his third year had just ended. Castiel was finalizing his requirements for his incoming graduation. Their anniversary was just around the corner. Yet for some reason, Dean had forgotten about that night he had asked Castiel to make it official.

Their hands intertwined in the college’s rooftop, as Castiel was stargazing and Dean watched Castiel. While Castiel was appreciating the constellation of stars above them, Dean was admiring the wrinkles dancing on his caramel skin. Castiel was looking at the star above. Dean was watching the brightest of them all, the one beside him. With a shaky voice, he had asked Castiel then, “Would you be my boyfriend?”

Dean had forgotten that night when his world seemed to finally make sense. He had forgotten that magical moment one year ago. Hence, instead of being beside Castiel on the rooftop as he had promised to do for their first anniversary and the next ones, Dean was at Jo’s house. His head was throbbing, his throat was burning, his hands shakily grabbing yet another drink.

He should have been with Castiel that night. He should have been holding Castiel’s warm, big hand as the other chattered about astronomy and aliens. He should have been burying his face in Castiel’s neck and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He should have been kissing Castiel’s lips hungrily, moaning his confession of love. _He should have been with Castiel._

Instead, there he was. Wasting another night with people he thought had accepted him, with people he thought whose opinions mattered. He should have been with Castiel. _He should have been home._

But Dean was a fool. He had always been. Ever since that night in which he lied through his teeth that he was not dating Castiel, he had been spending less time with his boyfriend. At first, he began spending more nights with Benny and Nick, partying or playing video games. Castiel was understanding though, his gentle eyes nodding knowingly. But then, those nights turned to weeks and then, to months. Dean rarely saw Castiel anymore. The chosen nights he would come over at Castiel’s, he would devote them to worship Castiel’s body. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he missed the other. Instead, he buried himself inside Castiel, peppering him with kisses.

Castiel, _his beautiful and gentle Castiel_ , welcomed him with warm arms. He kissed Dean with equivocal fervor. He moaned how much he loves Dean. He gazed at Dean as if nothing had changed.

Dean had always been a doer. Thus, each touch shouted his apologies and confessions: how sorry he was to be the cowardly boyfriend that Castiel didn’t deserve, how much he had missed Castiel and his warmth, how he wished he could spend every moment with Castiel without giving a fuck about what others thought.

He thought Castiel could hear them, could see them, could _feel_ his words. He thought his touches were enough. He thought that they were expressive enough to convey his real emotions. He thought that his kisses showed just how much he desperately loved Castiel, But, he had never been so fucking wrong in his entire life.

For the entire month following the forgotten anniversary, Dean wasn’t able to reach Castiel. He tried calling him endlessly but to no avail. He tried to look for him in campus, knocked on his apartment’s door even. Yet there was nothing. No texts or calls. Dean had never been so frustrated before. Why was Castiel ignoring him? Back then, Dean was stupidly naïve about how much he had and was fucking up. Rather, he was blinded with the moment: that Castiel was ignoring him and he had no idea why.

It wasn’t until he ran into Anna in a nearby coffee shop did Dean find out. He was calling out Anna’s name. He was certain that he had made eye contact with the pale girl. The other, however, ignored him. She avoided Dean even. Dean tried to keep up with Anna, who was quickly walking out of the café. He managed to catch Anna’s arm, “Anna, wait for fuck’s sake.”

Anna turned instantly, jaw set and eyes hard. “What do you want, Dean?”

Dean frowned. Anna liked him as Castiel’s boyfriend. Se even volunteered to be sexiled and cooked pancakes for the couple. “What’s up with you?” Dean asked, confused.

“I think the correct question is what is up with you?” Anna spat, roughly pulling his arm from Dean’s grasp. She crossed her arms on her chest, still glaring at the younger.

Dean scratched his neck, “I just-just wanted to know where Cas has been.” He muttered, unable to meet Anna’s blaring gaze. Anna had always been so sweet and nice, what was wrong with her?

“I don’t know, Dean. Why don’t you ask Jo?” Anna’s voice was acidic, eyebrow raised.

“What the fuck does Jo have anything to do with this?”

Anna’s tiny hands curled into fists, “Fuck, you really forgot, didn’t you?”

Forgot what? “Just tell me what it is, Anna.”

Anna ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated as she explained begrudgingly, “While you were partying at Jo’s last month, Cas was waiting for you in the college’s rooftop. He was so fucking excited Dean. You should have seen him. Fuck, you were supposed to see him! But you weren’t there, you never showed up even. You totally forgot what you have promised a year ago. Maybe next fucking time, you should remember your-”

“Anniversary.” Dean breathed, realization dawning on him. He felt so foolish, so fucking foolish. How could he forget? Dean wanted to bang his head on the nearest wall. No wonder Castiel had been ignoring him!

“Shit, you actually forgot.” Anna was saying, voice becoming softer. Dean was still dumbstruck, still mentally hitting himself. “Okay, okay. Listen Dean, Cas was really hurt but you’ll make it up to him, right?”

Dean could only nod.

“Okay good. Come over tonight at like 7 PM. I’ll leave the door open so you can just come in without asking. Because, otherwise, Tae won’t let you in.” Anna explained, eyes gentle and voice tender.

Dean nodded, hoping to fucking god that he could fix this, that it wasn’t too late.

Dean was not a romantic. In fact, he realized that in all of their dates, it had been Castiel’s plan or idea all along. It was Castiel who put in effort to look for places that they would both like. It was Castiel who would randomly gift him trinkets or foods that reminded Castiel of him. It had always been Castiel taking care of their relationship.

Dean was not good with words either. He didn’t know what to say, or how to ask for forgiveness. Hence, Dean found himself walking into a nearby flower shop and asking the attendant for flowers that conveyed apology. Twenty minutes before 7 PM, Dean was walking to Castiel’s place with a bouquet of blue hydrangea. Even though he was still early, a nervous Dean headed to Castiel’s apartment. He turned the knob slowly, discovering that it was indeed unlocked as Anna had promised.

What he didn’t expect, however, was the conversation he overheard as he stepped into the foyer, still unseen to the two people inside.

“I can’t fucking believe this, Anna!” Castiel was shouting. Dean stopped in his tracks; he had never heard Castiel shout or get angry before.

“Cas, you can’t run away from him forever.” was Anna’s response.

He heard a heavy sigh, “I’m not running away from him, Anna.”

“Then? You don’t even answer his calls. You fucking physically run away from him. You even take the long walk to the cafeteria just to avoid the engineering building!” Dean couldn’t hide the thorns growing inside of him.

“Anna, I just-” a muffled choke, “I don’t think we can work out.”

Dean’s breathing halted.

“Cas? What’s wrong? No no, please, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

Dean could hear sniffing, could almost imagine Castiel cry. He had only seen Castiel cry once, while watching Toy Story 4. Dean had promised then that they would never watch another Pixar movie. It fucking broke his heart to see the pool of tears fall on Castiel’s cheeks. Now? He was the reason that Castiel was crying. Dean wanted the ground to split open and to devour him.

“It’s just- Anna, he hasn’t even told me that he loves me, you know? It’s been a year and I’m still the only one who tells him how much I love him, how much he means to me.”

 _I love you. I love you so fucking much. You’re the light to my eternal darkness. I desperately love you. You make everything so much better. You make me want to become a better person._ Dean wanted to say.

“And- and, he’s ashamed of me, Anna. He’s hiding me from his friends. He doesn’t even spend time with me anymore.”

_You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I wish I can show the world that you are mine. I am yours. I would never be ashamed of you. Maybe I’m still uncomfortable with my sexuality, but I would never ever be ashamed to call you mine._

“Everytime we go out, it feels like he’s taking me out because he needs to. He never puts in any effort and at first, I thought that was how he simply was. But I don’t know anymore, Anna _. I don’t think I ever knew him even_. I try to compromise as much as I can and move around my schedule a lot just so we can go out when it’s convenient for him. But he doesn’t. He comes and leaves whenever he pleases.”

_I love you. I would do anything to keep you by my side. I would make the sun set in the east, if it meant you would stay with me._

“You know, the few times that he did spend time with me? He always stayed for sex. He always made sure to see me at least once a week to get laid. Then he would stay the night and the next morning, and I could fool myself into thinking that maybe this is fine. We are fine. Why? Because those few hours felt _so right_ , _so perfect_.”

_You are perfect. The way my hand fits onto the curve of your cheek is simply right. The way your lips caress mine is simply perfect. I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry that I can’t use my words to express how much I love you, how much I crave you. I thought my touches and kisses were enough. I thought you knew._

“He’s hurting me, Anna.” Castiel had to choke out every word, weeping. “It hurts when he’s there. It hurts when he’s not there.”

_I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to make you happy. I want you to be happy. I want to be the one that makes you happy. I want to see your blinding smile. I want to-_

“I- I think I deserve better than how he’s been treating me. I think that I deserve better than this.” Castiel finished; his voice was low as a whisper, weak and fragile.

The bouquet of blue hydrangeas fell on the floor.

 _Castiel was right._ The voice inside Dean’s head was saying.

Everyone Dean ever loved sooner or later left him. They realized that Dean was lacking in so many ways. That he was never worth staying for.

Castiel deserved so much more than Dean. Castiel deserved better.

That was his second mistake. Dean allowed the haunting voice to reign over him. He let his years of insecurity control him. He should have kissed the tears away from Castiel’s beautiful. He should have told him how much he loves him, how much he needs him. He should have apologized and promised to be better, to work harder to be the man that Castiel deserved.

But Dean was a coward. He succumbed to his own fear.

Thus, he walked away before he could hear a broken Castiel continue, “But I love him. I love him so fucking much that all of these doesn’t matter as long as I have him by my side.”

Dean reverted back to his old ways. From the past years he had battled with this entity called life, he learned that alcohol was a good companion to keep in times of suffering. He also knew that misery loved company. Any type of company, it would seem. He, however, didn’t realize that the two was a very bad combination. That was his third mistake.

He woke up from a loud horn from outside. He could feel his head throbbing and any thoughts of opening his eyes seemed too frightening to do so. Hence, he kept his eyes closed and focused on his breathing instead. It was then that he realized that there was a heaviness on the left side of his bed, on Castiel’s side of the bed. There was a head laying on his chest and Dean’s free hand immediately flew to the source of the familiar warmth. He loved waking up next to Castiel. If there was anything he needed given the flaring headache he was having, it was undeniably Castiel’s smile, Castiel’s kiss, Castiel’s scent. Dean ran his fingers across Castiel’s hair, marveling at the soft hair seeping through the gap between his fingers. Yet the strands of hair seemed longer than usual. That was weird.

Though Castiel had been slowly growing out his hair, he had not been very successful. When did his hair grow longer than below his shoulder? Dean opened an eye with great effort, peeking at the head resting on his chest. Instead of Castiel’s brunette hair and wide shoulders, there was a mop of blonde hair and a small physique.

It was a girl.

There was a naked girl on Dean’s bed, lying on top of Dean’s bare chest.

There was a movement in the periphery of Dean’s vision. As astonished as he was to wake up to the scene unfolding in front of him, he was awake enough to shift his attention to the movement that caught his sight. This sight, however, would forever haunt his every waking and sleeping moment.

Castiel was at the door.

He was wearing a green-toned plaid shirt that Dean had left in his apartment weeks ago. Along with it, he had that extremely baggy trench coat that Dean always referred to as the Cas uniform. His dark hair fell down his perfectly chiseled face, the tips reaching his wide shoulders. He was a gripping an all too recognizable bouquet of blue hydrangeas in his hands. Castiel’s pinkish lips were fixed into a tight line. His flaming blue eyes, however, burned Dean. They were swimming with grief, with palpable pain, with depthless anguish.

Dean wished he could reach out and erase that agony that painted Castiel’s eyes. Dean wished he could envelop him in a tight embrace and protect him from the suffering that he himself had inflicted on the latter. Dean wished he could mumble apologies and I love yous into Castiel’s hair.

Yet as Castiel’s grip on the flowers loosened, as Castiel’s eyes turned glassy and cold, _Dean knew_.

Dean knew he had lost the only thing that made his life worth living for.

Castiel rushed outside of his room. Without a thought, Dean ran after him, uncaring that he was completely naked as he tried to stop Castiel from leaving his apartment.

“Cas…” He bit out, hand tightening around Castiel’s arm.

Castiel turned around, striking blue eyes void of the usual warmth he had reserved for Dean. Instead, they were arctic as they met Dean’s.

“I- I’m sorry.” Dean muttered pathetically.

Castiel shrugged off Dean's arm harshly, unsatisfied with his response.

"Don't do this, Cas." Dean begged.

Castiel didn’t even blink as his gravelly deep voice echoed in Dean’s head, “Goodbye, Dean.”

Then he was out of the door.

Castiel had left.

Castiel was gone.

“But, but- _I love you_.” Dean whispered to the wind.

The emptiness that had been his constant company for months began to crawl and settle inside of him.

**Present.**

When Dean jolted awake, his breathing was utterly uneven. His face was wet with his own tears, while his body was coated with sweat.

It was his worst nightmare.

This was so much more worse than his vivid dreams of Castiel’s lips on his, of Castiel’s blinding smile, of Castiel’s seraphic laugh. Those were enough to make him feel hollow for the next few days, make him cry for countless hours. However, reliving the last time he had seen Castiel, had spoken to him, had felt his presence… that was just a whole new level of living hell. It left him in pain, an undying agony that would haunt him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

With shaking hands, Dean rose and headed to the bathroom. He grabbed a new set of razors and raised his boxers to expose his thighs: solid and built with muscle, scarred and bruised with linear strokes.

It was his canvas; a portrait of his physical pain, which was nothing compared to the anguish that devoured him from the inside. With teary eyes, Dean chose to surrender. He chose to feel physical suffering in order to momentarily escape the stabbing misery that was his ceaseless companion.

 _I’m sorry, Cas._ He whispered to himself.

_I just can’t fucking live through another Thursday without you._

**Author's Note:**

> yes, there will be a sequel.
> 
> My take on the "destiel is canon" s15e18 scene:  
> I started watching supernatural when it first aired. By season 4, Castiel had become my favorite character (used to be Dean). This thursday, after long 11-12 years... destiel had finally become canon. Some people may argue that it's platonic or familial love. But you know what? It doesn't fucking matter.  
> Castiel loves Dean, in EVERY sense of the word. Dean does too, in his own way.  
> Some fans might be furious that castiel literally permanently dies less than 11 seconds after his confession but I do think that it was the best way they could have handled their friendship/relationship. Castiel's love for dean (whether familial, platonic, or romantic) changed him. From simply being an obedient Angel of the Lord to his own person! I think that confession scene is beautiful. Misha and Jensen were perfectly true to their characters until the end. We've always seen Dean lash out loudly or violently. But that ending? He silently wept on the floor as the realization hits him? Beautiful. Painful. Poignant.  
> I also think that this death is permanent, that Dean and/or Sam will probably sacrifice himself/themselves at the end of the series. After all, there's a reason why our unofficial theme song is...  
> Carry on, my wayward son. They'll be peace when you are gone. Lay you weary head to rest, don't you cry no more.


End file.
